From a JUST IN CASE FILE: A Writer's Lament
by Sweetwater Gal
Summary: Justin’s the family wizard and a private eye. Alex’s an ex-convict and Justin’s partner-slash-assistant. And Max? Well, he’s more than what any of his siblings gave him credit for. One-shot.


**From a Just In Case File: A Writer's Lament**

**Summary:** Justin's the family wizard and a private eye. Alex's an ex-convict and Justin's partner-slash-assistant. And Max? Well, he's more than what any of his siblings give him credit for. One-shot.

**Rating:** T for adult language.

**Disclaimer:** Boy do I wish I owned the Russos. Then I'd make them do all my bidding… Like rewind the past Season Three episodes. But sadly I own not them. Just this alternate future reality of themselves… if anything.

**A/N:** I wanted to write this one-shot of Max's point-of-view of… things. If you're just reading this and have not read my other stories (_Just In Case Files: Fangs for the Memories _and_ Me, Myself, and Them_), this one-shot probably won't make much sense. So you have a choice; either you can read this first and if you enjoyed it and/or are intrigued by it, read the stories prior to it… OR you can read the ones prior AND THEN read this one. Up to you. For those that have (and I know whom some of you are, for you folks are the ones that keep me wanting to write more!), hope you enjoy this little side-story. It will not only give you some insight into Max BUT if you pay close attention, you might learn some _interesting_ information regarding the mysterious plaguing the Russos lives.

Oh. And I will post the newest _Just In Case File_ sometime next week.

Read and Review and most importantly, Enjoy!

_**~~*~~**_

Once upon a time I believed in magic.

Awe. Hope. Beauty. Wonder. The possibility of the impossible.

Years ago, hell another _lifetime_, I believed that good was good, evil was evil, and that if you had family to back you up, you're invincible.

It's nearing midnight.

The city that never sleeps seems eerily calm.

My view from my penthouse isn't as grand as my sister believes it to be. Maybe it's because I'm so used to the luxury. Maybe it's because I'm so used to the same view from the top over and over again. The same _lonely_ view from up high… Because maybe no matter how you look at it, I could be staring at the fuckin' Eifel Tower, completely blitzed like a Christmas tree on steroids, and I'd still feel alone and powerless.

What can I say? I'm a writer. Fuck off if you can't stand me getting poetic every once in a while.

My half-empty beer bottle sits an arm length away, almost forgotten as the perspiration trickles and creates a pool on the table's edge. I feel a sigh coming on, mainly because as much as I'd love for my glass table to be covered in frosted ringlets, for her I couldn't.

Even as I stand up from my couch, get a napkin, wipe the water and leave it under to serve as a crappy, soggy coaster, I can hear her voice scolding me.

"_Max. Don't get me wrong, I love your sloven ways, but at least do me the favor and keep a coaster on your drinks."_

It sounds like bells. Not the annoying chiming from a door's entrance. Not the wanton ringing of "Feed the Poor" that you hear during the holidays.

Bells from the steepest and most sacred of chapels. Bells from Christmas trees as it bristles from the slightest movement.

I wrinkle my nose over the sap. God I'm pathetic.

I'm twenty-five years old and already sounding like that old guy from "The Notebook."

I roll my eyes. Fuckin' great. Swiftly I remove the wet, pathetic makeshift coaster from under my beer and chucked it across the room. The fact that I can _name_ that chick flick irritates the fuck out of me!

I used to be a guy's guy! Wanting to run with the wolves and all that macho bullshit.

Years ago, before my family life had gone to the shitter, I was at my prime! Shocked mom and dad with my internships to _The Post_ and _The Wizards Gazette_. That was on-top of the fact that I was doing well obtaining my degree in journalism. And if it wasn't enough that I proved to be a lot smarter than anyone thought (except… maybe… _her_), I decidedly scored more girls than Justin ever could!

My sights landed on a picture frame sitting atop my desk. The picture was of a family full of love, hope, and laughter. But it wasn't just any family…

My family. Mom. Dad. Justin. Alex… Harper.

The time that photograph was taken? When my big brother graduated from high school. Mom was nearing tears. Dad was glowing with pride. Justin seemed content to let this moment of teenage normalcy last. Alex had a bright smile, whether from joy that she never has to put up with Justin within the same school area _or_ from honest to God pride. And Harper? Christ, what can I say without sounding like a girl? She was just… beautiful.

But that was years ago.

Before the lies. Before the treachery. Before my banishment. Before the pact made with a life. Before the deals that demons make. Before the death. Before the heartache.

I felt a clench in my heart. That family in the picture doesn't exist today.

Mom? Dad? Justin? Alex? No. I don't see it.

An icicle. A suicide. A stubborn, pain-in-the-ass detective. An ex-convict…

But Harper?

My heart clenches again.

Harper, despite everything, was still the same bright, optimistic, colorful woman we all knew and loved.

I don't know when. I don't know how. I do know this; the day my world fell apart, her hope became my sun. And when I saw what she did to help keep whatever remained of the ruins my father left behind, my love for her grew.

God I wish… I sighed. God I wish I can tell her.

All those nights she's allowed me to stay at her place. All those days I'd take off from work just to be in her company. All the minutes, the hours, the days… She's given me friendship and in return I want to give her my heart.

But I can't.

Because she deserves the truth.

And I can't give it to her. I can't tell her what I've wanted to tell my brother since dad--

My eyes landed upon my father's smile.

"_Max, promise me. No matter what, don't free me. Don't let your brother or your sister release me. Not yet… Possibly not ever."_

Oh dad. My hands are trembling. I can't even light my cigarette. Angrily, I toss both my lighter and my nicotine across the room.

Fuck.

Lies. Treachery. Deceit. Death. Suicide.

Harper.

The tears flow down my face before I can stop myself. Oh God… Why dad? Why?

If you can't be set free, why do I have to be stuck with you?

I take a shaky breath. Slowly, I walked over to pick up my lighter and my cigarette. With a control I was scared shitless of possessing, I lit up and took a long hard drag.

Once upon a time I believed in magic.

I wish I never did.


End file.
